


beneath the grove

by theflyingpeach



Series: tumblr prompts [2]
Category: Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Blood and Injury, Character Death, Death, M/M, a tree person, a tree???, baz is...a tree..thing, i mean it's HEA if u squint, nothing graphic at least I don't think?, simon is a tree fucker, what inspired this. dont ask me. idk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:27:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26938876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theflyingpeach/pseuds/theflyingpeach
Summary: The War is over. Battle cries and bombs silenced hours ago.Simon has a final wish before death.-for the tumblr prompt "tangled up"
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch & Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: tumblr prompts [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1962934
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	beneath the grove

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Adamarks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adamarks/gifts).



> for the tumblr prompt "tangled up" sent by jay

And for the final time, I watch him stagger into my Woods. His blood, hot and gushing, sizzles as it hits the settled snow.

_Simon, you imbecile, not like this._

The War is over. Battle cries and bombs silenced hours ago. Simon, crawling now, made his way in the night without moonlight and based on memory alone. Here. To me.

_Not right now._

My forest is his home.

_Not like this._

His aching arms fail him when he reaches my trunk. He collapses there on my roots, jagged and stabbing into his wounds. His shallow breathing is punctured by quiet sobs.

_I should leave him to lie._

_He lied._

I move my limbs to flip and cradle him.

He looks up at me, teary-eyed, and smiles. It’s grim.

“I made it.” He wheezes. There’s a hole in his stomach. I can see an organ pulsing.

If I had hands that didn’t splinter I would stick them in his guts and keep them together.

“Baz.” He says. I don’t respond. If I open my mouth now the sky might shriek. 

He’s turning as blue as his breathing.

I twine my roots up his legs and arms, around his chest and through his hair. He starts hacking through a wet hideous rattle in his ribs before he convulses. Blood, black as ink, bubbles out of his mouth. He coughs once, twice— the blood bursts over us. Fresh tears roll into the snow. I wrap my roots tighter.

“Baz,” he says, again. “Baz, Baz, Baz.” He says it over and over until he can’t anymore. His eyes are growing heavy.

I should answer him and say anything.

_Anything._

The wind whistles. 

_Anything at all._

His pulse slows, slows…

I think of Simon grey and withered, curled beneath my leaves on a warm summer day. He closes his eyes for a nap and sinks into the weeds. That was how he should have met me. He is still young and red, and too dumb to not fight.

I hate him for making me bear witness to his early grave.

_I hate myself for the faint delight that hums in the hollowest part of me knowing that I’ll have him sooner._

His eyes open suddenly.

“Baz,” he says fervently, “Kiss me.” His hands clutch at me. He tries to lift his head. This is his last surge of adrenaline. I feel his heart racing, ready to stop whenever he does. 

To move him will hurt him. To deny him will end me.

I twist him between my roots, pushing him to where I’m petrified in the tree. He cries out, squeezing one of my branches until it snaps.

“Sorry.” He pants. He’s almost dead. 

_He’s almost—_

“It’s alright, love,” I tell him, stretching my neck from the grove. His forehead thuds against mine. He’s broaching the place where I am: time without end; but in this moment he’s got only seconds. I waste no time. I press my lips to his.

_He’s almost…_

Blood tastes like breathing.

He sags.

Empty.

_...with me._

I wrap around him fully, crushing him until he cracks and folds within me. I pull him deep into the hearth, hold him tight as I swallow.

In the dirt, I taste all of him. He soaks into me like rain.

I wilt and wait for the sun and for Simon to find me again, be it a bird, or a worm, or a whisper in the wind.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr @ [theflyingpeach](https://theflyingpeach.tumblr.com/)


End file.
